More Spooky Nights in Middle earth
by Illwynd
Summary: A collection of spooky, scary, or otherwise Halloween themed drabbles and ficlets, written for the Six Days of Spooky challenge. Various characters.
1. And They Fled in Fear

Hello, all! For the second year in a row, I've committed myself to writing at least one spooky, scary or otherwise Halloween-themed drabble or ficlet for each of the six days leading up to All Hallows Eve. It's the Six Days of Spooky challenge! Some of them will be collected here, and I hope you will enjoy them!

**And They Fled in Fear  
**By illwynd  
Disclaimer: Not mine!  
Rating: PG for themes

Anyone who lived in Ithilien and yet did not see the darkness approaching was blind. During the eerie calm of the past months, I had prepared, gathered my family's most treasured belongings into packs.

But when the moment came, I could not go, and my wife's face mirrored my resolve. Ithilien was our home. Our son implored us in whispers, but fell silent as I kissed his children goodbye.

We watched as our neighbors rode away, crying out to each other as they went. We waited on the step, defiant, calm. And then the storm came upon us, bringing fire.


	2. Hollow Spears

**Hollow Spears  
**by illwynd  
Rating: PG  
Summary: In the Dead Marshes, time wears away...

The wet reeds point skyward, pale and water-washed spears of fallen forms that lie now beneath the murk. A oily film on the water makes a mirror for the grey above, and no sun shall bleach their bones. Instead time wears away, and nightly flames burn.

No one watched the creeping marsh swallowing dry graves. Opponents lie here side by side, while twisted forms of water-weeds cast ghastly shadows across their empty eyes. The sad wind still echoes their falling cries.

Look out across the bare marshland. Insects flit above the hollow spears, as if the battle were only yesterday.


	3. Fell Mission

**Fell Mission  
**Disclaimer: Not mine!  
Rating: G  
Summary: The Enemy has many servants. But not all of them are particularly effective.

A dark cloud appeared, like a breath of corruption, exuding dread: they had hearts black as their wings, and spoke to one another of their fell mission…

"So, what are we supposed to be doing?"  
"You asked that five minutes ago!"  
"Would you two stop bickering? I can hardly hear myself thinking."  
"Because you ain't!"  
"Grah! If _all_ of you don't pipe down…"  
"Who put you in charge, you ninny?"  
"Shut up and start looking!"

Far below, a raven watched the gang of crebain flying madly past, glanced at the people huddled in the bushes, and cawed softly in disdain.


	4. Their Gaze

**Their Gaze  
**Rating: PG for dark themes  
Summary: The dangers of razing Minas Morgul. A double-drabble this time!

Time had passed. Enough, it was thought, that the razing of Minas Morgul could be done in safety. Crews of men with hammers and picks and carts came to do the work each day, but before night fell, all would leave the bounds of the grim city, for they feared to sleep there. The few who had done so had woken to tell of horrible dreams, and had fled the place immediately, vowing never to return.

But even awake, all was not safe. Along each winding street, in each jagged old building, was a single spot of shadow that remained unbanished even in brightest daylight. They ranged from the size of a small coin to an emptiness like a great arched doorway, grim and unknown. Men would shudder and quickly look away when they spied one: the Nazgûl had once looked there, and their gaze lingered. Those who stared too deeply would find themselves within that gaze, trapped.

When pulled away, they could never tell what they had seen: something too terrible for the sunlit world. They would only whimper and stare with blank eyes. The Nazgûl's gaze lingered, and those caught in it were never quite the same again.


	5. Silenced

**Silenced  
**Rating: PG  
Summary: AU. In the back of Boromir's mind, something is happening...

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, something was happening. It felt like something scuttling around in the darkness, something small that might be crushed underfoot. It made him uneasy.

He tried to remember the things that he used to do… the things that once made him happy. Food was savorless now, and wine without taste. The joy he had once had at practicing with the blade was gone, and the activity left him weary only. And the people he had liked to speak with were gone—where? He couldn't remember, and this made the shuffling in his thought grow louder. All that was left was walking in his beloved city, so this he did. He left the Citadel, wandering on a route his feet remembered, though the city was much changed. The few huddled people that he saw seemed to cringe away and scurry out of his path like beaten dogs. At first this had alarmed him, but now he barely noticed.

How he loved his city! This was what he had fought for, gathered an army greater than any Gondor had known since the days of its ancient glory. Men had flocked to his banner, just as he had said. And the victory had come so easy he had almost doubted it, but no more: they had won finally, he was certain of it. He placed his hand on the wall. The white of the stone under his palm was stained dirty grey by the twilight shadow that lingered at all times, and something in his thought grew restless at the sight, but he shook the feeling away. The dimness was comfortable, like a darkened chamber for rest after toil. The silence was the quiet of peace. He patted the wall absently and went on his way.

Even in the darkness, he cast a long shadow on the ground behind him. It grew against his fading form, against the glint of gold that lay on the loose chain around his neck. It grew with every passing hour, finally silencing even the last desperate portion of his true thought, as it slowly, inevitably, engulfed him.


	6. Eye

**Eye  
**Rating: PG  
Characters: Faramir

The Rangers waited in the darkness for the prowling Orcs. Dying leaves blackened by night drooped on the trees, and rain splashed on them, cold and merciless, driven by wind and torn from the thick clouds by thunder. Faramir, so focused, determined, barely noticed the wet chill. He merely adjusted his hood so the rain did not run down his face.

But even he shivered a moment later: ahead and towering over them was a half-ruined statue, defaced with crude symbols of the Eye. In a sudden flash of lightning, that eye had seemed to move… to look at him.


End file.
